Gisella: A Beautiful Crime
by whitetiger91
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Ms Zabini became a Black Widow? If she had help to get away with her schemes? Why her name always remained Zabini, despite her many husbands? Well, look no further, as I attempt to address these questions in a short MC. Written for several DAII and HPFC challenges. Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue

**Gisella: A Beautiful Crime**

 _ **This short, multi-chapter tale was written for The Fairy Tale Challenge on the DAII forum:**_

 _ **Classic Fairytale:** **Cinderella: Write about rags to riches.**_

 _ **Optional prompts: Dialogue: I think, therefore I am." / "You am what? An a**hole?", song:** **Beautiful Crime - Tamer, and picture: #3 makeup.**_

 _ **This was also written for** **TheNextFolchart's Cinema Collection II challenge/ competition. Prompt/movie: The Perfect Storm: Write about a death.**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy my take on how Gisella Zabini came to be a Black Widow. It is an answer to my QLFC S4,R3 one-shot 'Bird of Prey,' but it is not necessary to have read that to understand this :)**_

* * *

 **Prologue**

" _Where are you? I know you're in here! Come on, show me your fa—"_

" _What's all this racket about, my dear?"_

 _Gisella glared at the blond man before her, tempted to knock out every single tooth in his perfect, white grin. In fact, if she was sure that he wouldn't sue her for assault, or have the Ministry arrest her for her folly, than she definitely would. Fixing him with her fierce gaze, she balled her fists by her side._

" _You know very well what this is about. He's dead! Michael is dead!" she said through gritted teeth._

" _Oh, I take it that our plan worked then? Good, I haven't got around to reading the papers yet."_

 _Gisella stamped her foot, causing the man to take a step back. "Our plan? You mean_ your _plan! Why didn't you warn me this would happen? I've lost everything now."_

 _The man shook his head, holding up a hand. "No, my dear," he corrected, meeting her gaze, "you have gained everything you desired. Wealth, fame; there is still so much more. Do not pretend that you didn't know this was going to happen."_

 _She opened her mouth to argue back, but rapidly closed it. Deep down, she knew he was right._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Encounters with the Devil**

"So, Giselle, where did you say you lived again?" Cordelia Parkinson asked.

Without lifting her eyes from the cup of tea she nursed in her lap, preferring to watch the murky brown liquid swirl around then meet the women's gazes, she said, "Erm, we moved to Chelmsford."

Glancing up, she saw Cordelia nodding thoughtfully, taking a sip of her own tea. Gisella shifted in her seat, wishing the other women would stop staring at her.

"Chelmsford? Never heard of it. Is that near that pretty, little country town Broomsfield?" Kathleen Nott asked.

"Not exactly. It is an up and coming suburb, though," Gisella replied, giving them a small smile. Feeling her cheeks flame as Cordelia sniffed, she quickly added, "We're only there short term, for Michael's work. I'm sure we'll be in a much better Wizarding community soon enough."

"Mmm."

"Remind me, what does your husband do for a living?" Camilla Ashbury asked..

"He-He works in Magical Creatures Protection."

"I see."

"He's really good at it, and enjoys getting to explore around different areas," Gisella assured them, her blush only increasing.

Cordelia looked at her, a smile on her face that did not reach her eyes. "I'm sure he is," she said. Then, turning to Esmerelda Scrimgeour, the smile widened. "Esmerelda, I do love your robes. Are they the new Whitticker range Alison recently released?"

"Oh yes, I've had my name on the waiting list for months now, ever since she announced another season. I do love the aquamarine and lilac colours she's incorporated."

"Yes, she does have taste," Camilla agreed.

Gisella nodded before turning her attention back to her lap. She had chosen the emerald robes she wore for her visit because they had looked dazzling on display in the window of the little shop down her road. Compared to the other sickle-priced garments, she had felt like a princess when she had tried it on. Now, however, as the women continued to gossip about robes and cloaks that must have cost over three hundred Galleons or more, she felt silly.

Taking a sip of tea—her mood dissipating even further as she noticed that the china had no chips or cracks like her own—she counted down the minutes in which she could leave. She had only come to the house in the attempt to get to know women with children Blaise's age, so at least he would have a chance to fit in Wizarding society. Now it seemed that Michael and his new, downsized job, was going to destroy that for their son the same way it had for any advantages in life Gisella had hoped to achieve.

* * *

The weather was freezing, though somehow not as cold as the atmosphere in the manor had been. Gisella pulled her cloak tightly around herself, ducking her head as the rain came down in sheets. Her long, dark hair whipped around her back, the curls she had carefully styled it into now a tangled, wet mess. Cordelia had offered to let her use the Floo to get home, yet she had been unable to accept and said the exercise would do her good. She couldn't very well tell them that her tiny house didn't have a fireplace. She made a note to ask Michael to install one, if he didn't think she was asking too much.

Quickening her pace, she ran down the street, the rain mocking her as it pelted down. At least she was close to Diagon Alley, and could wait in the pub's safe confines for Michael to finish work and Apparate her home—at least _that_ was something he could do without complaint. Honestly, the man had promised her the world when they married, only to deny her it but a year later. If it wasn't for the fact that he deeply loved their son, she would consider moving back into her mother's place and enjoy the comforts of middle-class life.

" _Oomph!_ "

Turning the corner too fast, her mind wandering, Gisella knocked into something solid. She fell backwards onto the wet pavement, saving herself from any major damage only by flinging her hands out last minute and breaking her fall. Her dress, however, was not so lucky, and as she moved onto her knees, hair falling in front of her face, she could feel a large, wet stain on her bottom.

"You ought to watch where you're going, you know," an irritated voice said.

Brushing away her hair, she looked up to see a man in purple robes bending down, his eyes furrowed. Quickly, she moved forward to help him pick up the pile of books and sheets of bound parchment that had spilled across the pavement. Holding out one entitled _Gaddling with Ghouls_ —a large red mark slashed across it—she flinched as he snatched it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to knock you over. I—"

"It's fine, it's fine," he interrupted, picking up the last of his books and straightening up. Gisella echoed his movements, slowly and carefully rising so that the cheap material of her dress did not tear.

The man smoothed down his robes, finally looking at her. His bright blue eyes twinkled, and his mouth transformed from a frown to a smile. Extending a hand to her, he said in a kinder tone, "My dear, I should be the one apologising. Such a fine lady, I cannot fathom how I could have been so clumsy."

Gisella blushed as he took her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Then, locking his eyes onto hers, he smiled, revealing a row of even, white teeth. Carefully styled blond hair complemented his jawline, his face somewhat familiar.

"That's-that's alright," she managed to get out a few words.

He stared at her for a minute, still smiling, as though expecting her to say more. When she didn't, his smile tightened and he shook their entwined hands. "Gilderoy Lockhart, and you are?"

"Oh, yes, I've seen you before. I'm Gisella, Gisella Zabini."

Gisella smiled at him, realising where she had seen him before. Amongst the pile of new books stacked on Cordelia's polished coffee table, there had been one labelled _Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests_. His face had been on the cover, and she had become distracted by his winking as the other women boasted about their husbands promotions and new furniture. Never did she think she would be in the company of an author.

Gilderoy beamed at her. Something flitted across his eyes, as though he, too, recognised her name. The moment passed, however, and he continued appraising her. She wanted to look away, but his wondrous gaze had her captured.

"Tell me, dear, have you ever considered going into modelling? I don't say this to many women, but my you are one beautiful creature!"

Gisella's cheeks burned and she swallowed. The only person to ever call her beautiful was Michael, and lately his obsession with his work had meant compliments were even fewer.

"Thank you."

"You know, I'm feeling very generous at the moment. After our ordeal," he said, looking to the pavement and back, "the least I can do is offer you a job."

"A job?"

"How would you like to be on the cover of my latest book? No, no, don't answer now. Here, take my card." Gilderoy shoved the books and pieces of parchment into her hands and took out a quill and a card with his picture on it. "I'll just sign this for you, and there, my office address. Now I'm afraid I must be off."

She blinked as Gilderoy took back his possessions, winked at her once more, and strode past her. She had no time to answer his question as he left, or rather, to accept it. A model? Her? And on a cover of a book no less? Cordelia and the other women would surely be jealous. Staring down at the card, she traced her finger along the address printed neatly in purple ink. It was located a few streets from Diagon Alley, so she would have no trouble getting there. Tucking it into her pocket, she continued on her way, the rain no longer bothering her. Things were finally starting to look up for her.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Work for it**

"Quickly, darling, we must hurry," Gisella urged, their footsteps slapping against the pavement.

Beside her, Blaise nodded, tugging on her wrist as he tried to match her pace. She smiled at him, before glancing at her watch. Great, Michael had made her tardy. Why did he have to argue about everything? Could he not support her?

As they approached the address she had been given, the building's violet-painted door standing out amongst the same, tired shop fronts surrounding it, she took a quick moment to fix her hair. She had made sure to wash it and style it—as best she could—like Cordelia and the other women wore their hair. The up-do was tight and pulled at her roots, yet it would allow her to appear presentable. Confident that no strand was out of place, she closed in the distance between herself and the building, and pushed open the door.

A tingling of a bell echoed throughout the room as she entered, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the vast amounts of purple covering the wide room. At the far end, purple curtains covered the entrance to a smaller room, blocked by a large, lilac table full of different makeup and potion bottles. To the side wall, a large purple sofa was spread out, cushions of various shades of purple scattered on top. A few Flutterby bushes were placed around the room, as were pots of lavender and lilies. Stairs with a deep violet rug running down the center spiralled upwards, and as Gisella trailed her eyes up them, curious to see what would be on the next floor, she was drawn to a large, ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting shimmering purple light on the room's occupants. In fact, the only thing that was not some shade of purple was the white plush carpet beneath her feet.

A wizard rifling through the bottles on the dresser looked up as she strolled across the room, son in tow, before shrugging and resuming his task. A camera hung around his neck, Gisella stopped in the middle of the room, not sure what to do next. Was she at the right place? Was she later than she had thought, and they were packing up?

Thankfully, a familiar face swept into the room, gasping with delight as he saw her.

"Ah, Gisella, dear, you made it! I trust that you had no trouble finding us?" Gilderoy asked, striding up to her and kissing her on either cheek.

Gisella smiled, opening her mouth to apologise. "Sorry that I'm—"

"And who's this handsome young man with you?" he cut in, smiling widely at Blaise.

Blaise moved further behind her legs, eyes wide as Gilderoy bent down to talk to him. Fishing in his robes pocket, he pulled out a small piece of parchment and gave it to Blaise. "Here you go, little boy. Do you know who that is?" Her son shook his head and clutched her legs as Gilderoy pointed to the black and white sketch. "Yes, that's right, it's me! Here, you take this and go on over to that sofa, and you can colour it in whilst your mummy and I do some work. No, no, no need to thank me, I'll even sign it for you," he finished, winking at Blaise.

Blaise stared up at her, his eyes still wide. Gisella smiled, nudging him to go over to the sofa. "Go on, go have fun." He blinked, looked down at the picture in his hands, and toddled off towards it.

"You can use my quill if you'd like," Gilderoy called out, waving his wand and conjuring a low, purple table in front of the sofa, complete with bottles of ink and a quill. "You'll find the blue matches my eyes perfectly!"

Then, turning to Gisella, he said, "Right, well, we should get started, shouldn't we? C'mon, over we go."

Gisella allowed him to grip her hand and lead her over to the makeup table. Pulling out the chair for her, he pushed her onto it and beckoned the wizard to stand next to him. His hands raked through her hair, humming as she pulled at the bun.

"Carl, I think we'll start with the hair, don't you?" Gilderoy asked, taking out one of the pins she had placed to hold her hair up. Whispering into her ear, he shook his head. "A word of advice, my dear, _never_ go back to whoever did your hair."

It seemed she was always destined to blush, for once again that week, her cheeks grew hot and she was unable to look away from her lap. Unperturbed, Gilderoy placed a finger underneath her chin, tilting her head up.

"Smile! Let Carl see what he has to work with."

Gisella lifted her lips, not sure she could. Behind her, the wizard tutted, prompting her to smile wider.

"Ah, yes, I see what you mean, Gilderoy. She has cheekbones that could cut glass. T'is a shame about the bags under her eyes, but I will try to work my magic," Carl said, pursing his lips.

Gisella shifted uncomfortably under the men's gazes. They were talking about her as though she wasn't there; like she was a doll, or clay to be moulded.

Picking up a humming brush, Carl began to do her hair, ignoring her hiss of pain as the heated bristles of the brush touched her scalp. With each stroke, he pulled back her hair, forcing her head back and causing her to wince. Was it normal for hair dressing to be this painful?

Meanwhile, Gilderoy had conjured another chair for himself and poured a glass of Merlot. Crossing his legs and taking a sip from his goblet, he turned to her and asked, "So, Gisella, how are you finding life?"

She turned to answer, yet Carl yanked her head back to face the mirror. Settling instead for eyeing Gilderoy in the mirror instead, she replied, "Uh, alright, I suppose."

"If you don't mind my asking, are you married, my dear?"

Gisella swallowed, not sure she didn't mind. She became aware that, apart from her son, she was alone with two, strange men in a room. Michael knew where she was, but perhaps it wasn't the best idea to stay.

As if he could read her mind, he laughed. "Only, I'm asking because your last name...Zabini, was it? Yes, well, it is a dead-ringer for the name of someone I've heard is very interested in ghouls and ghosts."

Letting go of the breath she held, she nodded. Carl held her head still, tsking, but she answered anyway. "Oh, oh yes, that would be my husband, Michael. He's very interesting in spirits and all that."

"I see," Gilderoy said, before adding, "Well, now, I simply must pick your brain about him. Tell me, is he close to breaking the secrets of the ghouls of Kentwell Hall? Does he know what appeases them, without using forceful measures to make them leave?"

"Erm, I think he could be. It's the only reason we moved. I'm afraid he and I don't speak much about his work, though."

Actually, they didn't seem to be able to speak at all, lately—not without them fighting constantly. Gisella thought back to earlier that morning, when Michael could not fathom why she wanted to be a model. He hadn't believed that they needed more money, yet only weeks before he had told her to do something about their poor financial situation herself if she was so unhappy with it. To make matters worse, he had stormed off to work, refusing to take Blaise along despite knowing that they could not afford to have someone to look after him. It was why she had been late, and she felt herself praising the Heavens that Gilderoy had not made a fuss about it.

"Fascinating," Gilderoy replied, dragging her from the memory.

Carl huffed, finally releasing her hair. It framed her face in a long, sleek ebony curtain. Little flecks of blue shimmered as the light from the chandelier caught it. Raising a hand to her hair, Gisella felt how smooth it was, the silky strands falling through her fingers like water, before Carl slapped her hand away. She had never seen it look so good, and continued wondering where the frizz had gone, or better still, how much the brush Carl used cost, as the stylist began on her makeup.

She closed her eyes, blinking every now and then as Carl dabbed and prodded at her face with a variety of brushes and puffs.

"Gisella, Gisella, Gisella; I am going to make you a star!" Gilderoy cried.

* * *

"Gisella, do you want to be a model or not? Come on, bigger smile!" Giledory said through a tight smile.

Gisella stretched her lips as far up as they would go. They had only been shooting for half an hour, yet already her makeup felt like it was melting under the harsh lighting Carl had put up. Smiling only made it worse, the thick paste cracking with the strain. She didn't know how Gilderoy continued to do so himself, for she was half in his shadow, the wizard's golden hair shining from the full exposure of the lights.

"Much better," Gilderoy said.

The camera flashed again, and lights danced behind her eyes. Her legs began to wobble, the heels making her feel as though she was walking a tight-rope stretched between two ten-story high buildings, scared she would fall with no broom to catch her. When she had walked from the changing room, she had told Gilderoy of her worries, but he had simply laughed and said, "Don't worry about that. You'll be behind me, and I'll hold your hand if necessary."

As it were, Gilderoy was too focused on angling his head, determined to feature his 'best angle' on the book's cover. A few more camera flashes, and he nodded.

"Right, I think we've got it," he said, striding forward to speak with Carl and examine the results.

Gisella let out her breath, the air feeling thinner than ever before. The dress robes she wore were certainly much too tight, particularly at her chest, and it had taken all of her energy not to pass out. She had thought them beautiful when she had first tried them on, the material one she had never had the pleasure of touching, let alone wearing, before. It hugged her chest and complimented her olive skin. Now, however, the price for its beauty seemed to be owning every breath she took.

"Oh yes, my chin stands out in that one," Gilderoy said, pointing to one of the prints Carl held in his hands. Then, looking up, he smiled widely at her, "Alright, my dear, we can call that a wrap, I think. Good work."

"Already?"

Gilderoy beamed at her. "Absolutely, you did splendid work. Your smile is simply gorgeous. No, no, keep the robes, they're much more stylish than the ironic ones you wore in. Good joke, by the way."

Gisella flushed, reminding herself to get rid of the plain, fitted black robes she had worn in. She had started towards the change room, but upon Gilderoy's instruction, moved towards Blaise. Her son had spread himself out on the lounge, the picture he had been coloured covered in scribbles. She quickly reached out and put it in her pocket, glancing at Gilderoy in case he saw it; by the way he had turned back to examine the pictures again, demanding Carl to make his eyes twinkle in the edits, she had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate her son's artistic capabilities.

Holding her hand out for Blaise to take, she smiled as he hopped down and said, "Finally."

"Uh, well, thank you for today. I enjoyed myself," she said, pausing by the door.

Gilderoy glanced up, smiling again. "Anytime, my dear. I shall let you know when the cover design is finished."

She nodded, wavering on the spot. She wanted to leave, but at the same time, wanted to make sure the man knew how much she appreciated the opportunity to model for him. Deciding it best to show her interest in it, she said, "I'm very excited to see the results. So… What is the book going to be about?"

The blond paused before answering. "Ah, well, it will feature a bit of magical beings. Goblins, possibly ghosts. Actually, may I ask you a favour, dear?"

She nodded eagerly, ignoring the way Blaise tugged on her hand and tried to open the door. "Sure."

Gilderoy beamed. "Well, see if you can talk to your husband about his work for me. You know, what his ideas on taming ghosts and ghouls is. I'd like to get some facts from an expert and compare my results."

"Absolutely," she promised and, seeing Gilderoy wink at her and wave goodbye, she left the building. Her heart swelled with happiness. Perhaps, just maybe, Michael hadn't completely ruined her chances in life after all.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Celebrations**

Gisella smoothed a crease out of the white table clothe, ensuring the table looked as good as it could possibly be. A candle in the centre lit up the room, allowing the white plates to shine for the first time in years. Polished knives and forks glinted, and the delicious smell of Game Pie—an expensive treat at three Galleons a slice which she thought she deserved—wafted through the small dining/ family room.

"Dinner's ready," she called, satisfied with the effect.

Her son came running into the room, a cheeky smile on his face. Gisella pulled out his chair for him, tucking it back in as he settled down and picked up his knife and fork.

"And what are you so happy about, my darling?" she asked, bending down and pecking a kiss on his cheek.

Blaise's smile disappeared, replaced by a serious look. "It's a secret," he said.

Gisella raised her eyebrows, but said no more, settling into her own seat. Blaise enjoyed keeping secrets, usually about the games he made up in his room. He never let her in on any of them; in fact, the only person he did play with was his father, who seemed to find no problem in bribing him with toys made from parchment and empty ink bottles. That would change soon, if and when her modelling career picked up.

Placing a slice of pie onto Blaise's plate, she then helped herself to her dinner, calling once more, "Michael, dinner's ready."

After a few more minutes, her husband came trudging into the room, his tie loose around his neck and top shirt buttons undone. His hair was tousled, and as he sat down and helped himself to dinner, he remained quiet.

"Do you like the pie?" Gisella asked as he took a bite, chewing slowly.

Michael turned to her, swallowing. Taking a sip of water, he nodded. "It's good. Why do you ask?"

Gisella rolled her eyes, yet knew why he was suspicious. Dinner times usually remained quiet affairs, with the occasional protest from Blaise as he tried to hide his vegetables under his plate. If either of them, mainly Gisella, did say anything to the other, it was not pleasant.

"Because that's what normal people do. They ask their family how their day was," she replied.

"Aha." Michael took another bite, staring at the pie as he chewed. "So, is there a special reason we have Game Pie on the table?"

Putting down her knife and folk, Gisella muttered, "Well it's certainly not from your wage."

"Pardon?"

Locking her gaze with him and clearing her throat, she said, "If you must know, yes, there is a special reason. We're celebrating my new career."

Running a hand through his hand, Michael placed his own cutlery on the table. She could see bags beginning to form under her eyes, and subconsciously her mind wandered to her own face, happy to now know the secrets of concealing her own.

"Gisella, I was- I thought this was a one-time thing," Michael said slowly.

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him until he sighed and looked away. "We discussed this this morning. I want to be a model, and it turns out I'm pretty good at it."

"What about Blaise? Who is going to look after him when you're off gallivanting around with some other wizard?"

"That other wizard happens to be the person who will make me—us—rich. He seems to be the one interested in making sure our son has all he needs, which is more than I can say for you."

"Damn it, Gisella!" Michael yelled, slamming his fist into the table. Then, lowering his voice as their son looked at them in alarm, he continued more quietly, "You know I am doing my best to provide for us. You're lucky we even have a roof over our heads at the moment."

Gisella reached across the table and picked up her goblet. Taking a sip, she continued to glower at her husband. Michael sighed, picking his fork back up and stirring around the content of his plate.

"I just don't like the idea of you spending all this time with a strange man, that's all," he said after a moment.

Huffing, she put down her goblet. "If you'd get off your high-thestral for one moment, you would know that _Gilderoy_ isn't bad at all. In fact, he asked about you, and is very keen on getting to know you and your work."

Michael's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, before knitting together. "I don't think Gilderoy Lockhart is as interested in ghosts and ghouls as he is in making money," he said, shaking his head. "I simply don't trust the man; he's a shady character."

Gisella gritted her teeth. Stubborn jackass. "That is because you don't know him," she said slowly, pushing away your plate. "You only _think_ you do."

"I think, therefore I am—" he began, but she cut him off.

Pushing out her chair, she said, "You am what? An asshole? I'll tell you what, Michael, I have more clue as to what people are like than you ever will have."

Michael let out a breath, his chair scraping as he, too, stood up. He opened his mouth to reply, yet was cut off once more, this time by a screech.

All three sets of eyes turned to the open window, watching as a tawny owl came soaring through. A letter was clamped firmly in its beak, which it dropped only as it landed on the table, the remaining slices of Game Pie toppling to the floor. Then, taking the piece of crust Blaise held out to it, his face alight with a smile once more, it took off, leaving them to stare at the envelope.

Before Michael could touch it, Gisella leant forward and snatched it up. Her name was written in neat cursive with purple ink, and she knew it was from Gilderoy. Michael craned his neck to see it, the frown still on his face, yet she moved it out of his sight.

"I'm going to be a model, Michael, whether you like it or not," she seethed. Spinning on her heel, she stormed out of the room.

* * *

"Are you ready? Alright, open your eyes in three, two, one. Surprise!"

Gisella's eyes flew open, only to see a blur of black and white print pressed in front of her face. Blinking, she moved her head back a little, allowing the parchment to come into focus. It was an article, she realised, almost an entire page long. She looked at the top of the page to confirm that it was the Daily Prophet, before scanning the paragraphs and gasping as her name came into view.

' _... the book will feature upcoming model, Giselle Zabini, on the cover. It will be…'_

Well, it was close enough. The page disappeared and was replaced by Gilderoy's beaming face.

"Did you see how excited they are for the book's release? Of course, I had to tip them off that it was going to happen, but only because it will be a best-seller. You're mentioned in there too, somewhere," Gilderoy said, eyes twinkling.

Gisella nodded, not sure what to say. Her name was in the paper, as an upcoming model. Model. She knew Cordelia Parkinson often read the gossip columns and reviews; would she have seen it yet? Would she think better of her now? No, who cares? She was going to be famous!

"I can tell by your smile that you're excited," Gilderoy continued. "My dear, you are going to be famous and rich—almost as much as me—before you know it!"

"Wow."

"I have to actually finish the book, mind you, but at least the press know about it now. It should give my ignor- my publishers something to talk about too. Tell me, did you ever get around to asking Michael about his research?"

"I- I couldn't, I'm sorry. But I think I can get you a copy of his research from his desk. I'll owl it to you tonight," Gisella said, shaking her head and looked down at her feet.

In the fight last night, she had completely forgotten her plan to talk about Michael's work. She felt awful, knowing that she had let Gilderoy down. Would he fire her now?

Looking up, she saw that Gilderoy's smile had indeed faded, but he did appear angry. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let out a deep breath, before placing his hand in his pocket. Withdrawing a small, unlabelled vial of clear liquid, he took her hand.

Staring into his eyes, Gisella noticed they looked sad, water lining the rims. "Gisella, my dear," he began, rubbing a finger over her knuckle. "Is Michael treating you well? Does he not want you to be here?"

She gulped, wondering how he could possibly have known. Still, she did not know what to say.

Gilderoy nodded, pressing the small vial in her hand. When she went to look at it, he tilted her head up, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"Do not worry, dear, I understand. He must simply be stressed from work; all men are at some point. But I'll tell you what, you slip this calming potion into his drink—a secret recipe I and some other famous wizards like to use—and he'll be perfectly agreeable for you."

"What is it?" she asked, a horrible feeling rising in the pit of her stomach. The vial could contain anything.

Gilderoy's eyes widened, and he hastily reassured her by saying, "It's not a drug, my dear, if that's what you're worried about. Just a little concoction."

Her stomach swirled uncomfortably, but she placed it in her pocket. If things didn't improve soon, she would use it then. Perhaps it was something that would relieve Michael's stress, and therefore allow him to be more supportive? Perhaps.

The wizard smiled at her and pulled her to her feet. "Now, enough of that, we must celebrate! _Accio_ wine."

From the winding stairs, a polished silver tray came flying towards them, bearing a bottle of Merlot and two crystal goblets. It stopped in front of them, and Gilderoy poured the wine into the two goblets. Giving one to her, he raised the other in a toast. "To fame and fortune!" he shouted.

Clinking her goblet against his, she echoed his statement, forgetting her troubles. "Fame and fortune!"

* * *

 _ **A/N: Only two more chapters of this short tale left, though I'm starting to wonder if I should bother completing it at all. Another Cinderella-themed story could be written, but please let me know what you think about this one—for those of you who know me, I never seem to be able to make up my mind, so any input is more than welcome :) Either way, I sincerely hope that you are enjoying this, and any errors will be fixed gradually when I find a beta.**_


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Last Chance**

Gisella stood up to blow the candle out, the clock on the mantle chiming nine o'clock. Yet again this week her husband had missed dinner, claiming that he was too busy at work. Any other woman would have assumed that he was out with another woman, but Gisella knew Michael was too frustrating and stubborn for anyone else to desire. She went to put away the wine, lamenting at what a waste it was.

The front door slammed at that moment, and the devil himself walked into the room. Gisella left the candle, calmly sitting back down in her chair as Michael looked around.

"You kept dinner for me?" he asked, blinking at her.

"I tried. It's probably cold by now," Gisella replied.

Michael hung his head, going to the table and taking his seat next to her. Pulling the plate of roast beef and mixed vegetables, he smiled. "This looks great."

"Ugh, don't patronise me."

"I'm not." Giving her a wary look, he picked up his fork and dug it into the volume of green and white. Lifting the pile of broccoli and cauliflower to his mouth, he took a large bite and forced it down. "See? Mmm, it's good. Thank you."

Gisella huffed and folded her arms. That was another reason she knew that he had been at work and not having an affair; Michael Zabini could not act to save his life.

Waiting for him to finish, she asked, "So, how was your day? Learn anything knew about your precious ghouls yet?"

Michael swallowed, eyeing her. "It was good. I've learned nothing more than my latest discovery the other day, however. Are you asking for my sake, or for Gilderoy's?"

Narrowing her eyes, she shook her head. "I've apologised again and again for sending him those documents. How was I supposed to know that you were stupid enough to not have copies? It's not look we talk about our lives anymore."

"Gisella, please, I don't want to get into this again."

"Then why bring it up?"

Sighing heavily, Michael lifted a hand to his temple, rubbing it. She watched as he tried to steady his breathing, his other hand clenched into a fist. Lifting his gaze to her, he said, "I just wish you could understand how I feel. I know that you're trying to do what you think is best by working with this man, but I maintain that he isn't good news."

Struggling with her own breathing, Gisella refused to raise her voice. Not only would she not be held responsible for waking Blaise who slumbered in the next room, but she would not give Michael the satisfaction of making her angry.

In a strained tone, she said, "And I maintain that I am going to be a model. And Gilderoy is going to be the one to help me."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"Why are you such an asshole?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Michael, all I am asking for is a little support. I let you go off with your precious ghosts and ghouls and whatever else you find oh-so-fascinating, why can't you let me do something that I enjoy?" Despite her earlier promise to herself, Gisella began to yell.

Michael, too, matched her tone, yelling, "Are we not good enough for you? I work, yet you want more. More, more, more!"

"Shh! You'll wake Blaise. Since when was it a crime to want nice things?"

Her chest heaved up and down, and hot blood ran through her veins. Her eyes flashed as she met Michael's own fierce glare, beginning a stare-down.

It was Michael who relented first, banging his fist down on the table. "Fantastic. Another meal ruined. I need a drink."

Reaching forward, he went to grab the wine Gisella had set on the table. Scoffing, she held it away from him, cradling the pewter goblet—a wedding present and one of the only fine things they owned—containing the vial contents Gilderoy had given her. She had put it in there earlier, hoping to calm Michael if he came home stressed. It had only been on a whim, however, the bad feeling coming back to her stomach when she had poured it.

"Oh, great, you're going to turn into an alcoholic now, are you? Can you not just listen to me?"

Michael shook his head, snapping his fingers for the goblet. "Please, Gisella."

Looking at the swirling crimson contents for a moment, she thrust it into his hand. "Fine. Drink up."

Michael took it, but placed it on the table. His eyes focused on her, tears prickling the corner of his eyes. She felt her heart sink for a moment, not expecting such a reaction.

"What happened to us? Where did we go so wrong?" he whispered, eyes sparkling with moisture.

Gisella opened her mouth to reply, but found no words could come out.

With a shrug, Michael picked up the goblet. "Look, if it makes you happy, take up modelling. I'm sure Gilderoy is alright deep down; heck, he likes ghosts, apparently. I also know you will make any design look beautiful," then, raising it in a toast, he placed it to his lips.

Gisella's stomach erupted, as though a million butterflies had taken flight, or a sea churning in a storm had taken up inside. Michael's words struck a chord, but it wasn't his compliment, or his gentleness. It was the mention of Gilderoy, clicking everything into place. She stepped forward, intent on pushing the drink away, but it was too late, and she could only watch as Michael's throat bobbed and the poison was swallowed.

The effect was instantaneous. Still gazing at her, Michael's eyes widened, his mouth falling open. Raising a shaking to his chest, he bent over, sweat forming on his brow. "I- I can't- bre- breathe," he gasped, slumping over.

She didn't know if she screamed or cried or yelled or simply stood quietly, watching as the life drained from her husband. His skin had become pale, eyes squeezed shut as the last breath shuddered out, blood leaking from his lips.

"Mummy?"

Turning around, her brain snapped back into focus as Blaise walked into the room, rubbing his eyes with the back of his chubby fist. Gisella swooped down on him, embracing him in a hug and blocking his view of his father.

What had she done? No, what had Gilderoy done?


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: The Price of Fame**

"Where are you? I know you're in here! Come on, show me your fa—"

"What's all this racket about, my dear?"

Gisella glared at the blond man before her, tempted to knock out every single tooth in his perfect, white grin. In fact, if she was sure that he wouldn't sue her for assault, or have the Ministry arrest her for her folly, than she definitely would. Fixing him with her fierce gaze, she balled her fists by her side.

"You know very well what this is about. He's dead! Michael is dead!" she said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I take it that our plan worked then? Good, I haven't got around to reading the papers yet."

Gisella stamped her foot, causing the man to take a step back. "Our plan? You mean _your_ plan! Why didn't you warn me this would happen? I've lost everything now."

The man shook his head, holding up a hand. "No, my dear," he corrected, meeting her gaze, "you have gained everything you desired. Wealth, fame; there is still so much more. Do not pretend that you didn't know this was going to happen."

She opened her mouth to argue back, but rapidly closed it. Deep down, she knew he was right.

"Come, sit down, I have something to show you," Gilderoy said, stepping forward and taking her arm.

Despite digging her heels into the carpet, he was able to pull her along to the purple sofa. Pushing her into its soft base, he sat beside her and waved his wand. A small, brown paper package came soaring towards them and plopped into his lap.

"Shall I open it, or would you like the honours?" he asked, a wide grin on his face.

Gisella folded her arms, glaring as venomously as she could at the man. He shrugged his shoulders and ripped open the paper. Taking out a thick, indigo coloured book, he held it up so she could see the cover. On the front, Gilderoy smiled up at her, and from over his shoulder, she could see herself—at least she thought it was her, the dark-haired woman was almost unrecognisable covered in makeup—doing the same. Funny, she didn't feel like smiling now.

What stood out to her most, however, was the title of the book: Gaddling with Ghouls.

"I was right; my publishers did read the article last week. I suppose, though, they might've been swayed by the extra information I was able to get," he continued, nudging her shoulder.

Gisella pushed him away, yelling, "You're nothing but a fraud, Gilderoy! A fraud! I demand you cancel this, right this minute."

"Can't. Copies are already on their way to the shops—why, even Flourish and Blotts have already had several pre-orders."

Standing up, Gisella glared at him. "I will expose you for what you have done!" she said, spinning around and storming to the door.

Unfortunately, Gilderoy's next words stopped her in her tracks. "Careful, my dear. You expose me, and I will expose you. We did this together."

Swinging around, she narrowed her eyes.

"That's right, I didn't give him the poison, did I? You forget, dear, that you and I are the same."

"We are _not_ the same!"

"Oh, but we are. Now, be a good girl and come sit by me," he said, patting the spot next to him. "We have to discuss the modelling opportunities this has opened up for you, let alone all the men that are going to be after your heart."

Gisella remained rooted to the spot, seething. As if she would ever consider conducting more business with this fraud. Gilderoy raised his eyebrows, a smirk upon his face.

"Now that your husband is gone, you're going to need to start earning some money. Assuming you want to support that delightful son of yours." He drummed his fingers against the arm of the sofa, his smirk increasing.

With her eyes cast downwards, she walked over to him. Closing her eyes as she sat down, she shut out Gilderoy's gloating face.

Yes, Gilderoy was right. Even if their motives were different, when the sun set and darkness overcame the world, they were the same.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, this is the conclusion to the short story. Thank you to those who have read it, and to anyone who takes the time to review in the future. Another fairy tale of sorts done :)**


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